


With somebody who loves me

by Shizuka_Kuroko (zhadyra)



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Podfic Available, ash is whipped, shorter is the best friend and matchmaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhadyra/pseuds/Shizuka_Kuroko
Summary: When Shorter signed Ash up to take dance lessons without telling him just so that he doesn't have to go alone, Ash is, of course, furious and annoyed beyond reason.There's no way he's letting himself be dragged into this dance studio if he can already dance anyways!But when he lays eyes upon a group of boys, one boy specifically, he changes his mind completely. There's no way he's turning back now.Shorter smiles knowingly.Title from Whitney Houston's "I wanna dance with somebody"





	With somebody who loves me

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the banana fish mini bang! I had lots of fun working together with my artist. Check her twitter and pillow fort out!  
> https://www.pillowfort.social/tired_librarian &  
> https://twitter.com/tired_pencils

It’s one of those gorgeous spring days. The ones where the sun shines and because it’s still early in the year it is standing low so that the light shines into your eyes and you have to blink so you can see.  
The ones where the birds are singing in the trees and you instantly hear several unique songs as soon as you start paying attention to them.  
The ones where the cherry blossoms are still in full bloom while the first magnolia petals are already on the floor, next to forget-me-nots and columbines at the margins of the streets.  
The ones where the colours all are vibrant, but still toned down, pastel only speckled here and there with a bright flash of yellow or pink.  
The air smells fresh. Ash breathes in.

There’s a little smile on his face when he’s letting his breath out again, continuing to walk like before.  
“Where are we even going?” he asks Shorter.

Unfortunately, the bastard only turns, walks backwards, fucking smirks at him and complets his little twirl.

Ash rolls his eyes. He loves his best friend, but sometimes he’s just so fucking annoying.

He squints up at the sun, not looking at the petals on the sidewalk and at his feet anymore. It’s moments like this when he wishes he could just snag Shorter’s annoying sunglasses and wear them himself.  
A shame, though, that they are absolutely way too ridiculous and don’t suit Ash at all.  
Shorter’s always wearing a different pair, some more than once, but Ash has resigned himself to ignoring them, for his own sanity. They only get more and more ridiculous.

Today he’s wearing Mickey Mouse ones with a floral pattern, all of them in pastel pink.

At least they match his stupid hair today, Ash thinks, ignoring the fondness the voice in his head automatically adapts when thinking about his friend.  
Shorter and he have been through a lot together, having met when they were both young, scared, alone and without anyone to look out for them.

They were a team on the streets, a team in the orphanage that they were brought to after the police had found them and they were a team when they had been adopted together. Both or none, they had only been a package deal.

They are still a team, but Ash seriously reconsiders this when he realises where they have arrived.  
He wants to kill Shorter. He really, really wants to kill him.  
Slowly. Preferably in a way that hurts.

He doesn’t. He turns on the spot and starts walking in the other direction, back home again.

Mom should be home; he could walk back home to her and they could go into the garden, read something or play a board or card game.

But Shorters hand is already on his arm, holding him in place, as if he expected Ash to react like this.  
God, anything but this, please.

They’re standing in front of a dance studio.

A dance studio per se isn’t bad; Ash likes dancing. He’s kind of good at it too. It’s fun. That’s enough for him.  
But right now, standing in front of this dance studio, with Shorter having led him here and with that look on his face, Ash knows this is going to be a horror trip.

“Why?” he forces out. He’s trying not to be too annoyed, but if he’s right, he knows it will be incredibly difficult to hold his anger in.

“Come on, bro. Please stay. Or at least for one lesson. You know I can’t do this alone and it’s also already paid for. Only one lesson. After that, you can cancel the enrolment, okay?” Shorter reasons calmly.

Ash is right. His suspicions were right. Of course.

He’s angry. How dare this asshole bring up his fear of new places? He knows that Ash has a soft spot for anything related to the trauma they’ve been through, knows that if he brings it up, Ash won’t be able to say no. That fucking bastard.

Ash turns and looks him directly in the eyes.

“Fine,” he hisses. “Fine, but you’re doing my chores for at least a week.”

Shorter stays quiet and only starts to bring out the puppy eyes, even going as far as actually taking of his sunglasses. It only angers Ash further. He’s had over ten years to learn to resist them.

“Nope. At least a week. You’re gonna fucking make me go to dance lessons. It’s the least you can do to compensate me.”

The puppy eyes intensify, but Ash’s face remains impassive. He feels his anger ebb away slowly, fading into frustration, but he doesn’t want to let it go entirely yet.

“Okay, fine. I’ll do half of your chores for a week,” Shorter relents.

“All of them or I’m going home.” Ash doesn’t budge.

“Five-eighths?”  
“Seven-eighths.”  
“Three-fifths?”  
“Four-fifths.”  
“Three-quarters?”

“Okay,” Ash grins, knowing he has won. “Let’s get this over with,” he sighs, pushing the door open.

They enter, Ash holding the door open for Shorter just long enough so that it’ll hit his face when he walks through it. He can admit that he’s petty like that.

The first thing Ash sees is a giant mirror, his reflection staring back into his eyes. He looks grumpy, annoyed, a little ruffled. It’s not his best look and he knows that, but he hadn’t prepared to go to dance class.  
He isn’t sure if he would have made an effort if he had known, anyway.  
He brushes his hair out of his eyes and he catches the sparkle of his earring in the reflection. He averts his eyes to the reception area.  
There is a guy at the reception, next to him a woman. They are discussing something, she is pointing to the monitor that he sits in front of.

Ash stops and waits for Shorter. If he wants to be accompanied by Ash, he has to do the work.. Ash sure as hell is going to do nothing more than the bare minimum.

Shorter steps next to him, rubbing his forehead where the door must have landed. Ash smiles to himself. He may be evil but he also knows that the door isn’t particularly heavy and from the way Shorter walks he can’t be hurt badly. He’ll be okay.

“Dude, that’s totally going to ruin my appearance!” he whines, much to Ash’s further amusement.

“You’re saying that as if there was something to ruin,” Ash quips, not without another grin. He’s not as angry at Shorter as he was earlier. Then again, he can never stay mad at him for long.  
(It’s the puppy eyes.)

He looks around the lobby, trying to look nonchalant, like the blow he had just delivered was nothing but the absolutely obvious truth. He’s delighted when Shorter reacts with an indignant sound.

“Okay playing time is over, now please, let’s get this over with for real.” Ash pushes Shorter in the general direction of the reception counter. He follows behind when the other walks up to the desk and starts talking with the man behind the screen. The woman still stands behind the counter, but they had apparently stopped their discussion in lieu of talking to the customer.

Ash lets his gaze wander around the room further as Shorter continues talking to the employees.  
They are not alone as he had previously thought. There are two groups of teenagers in the room, but the room itself seems much bigger and much emptier because of the mirror wall.

The first group is a group of girls. Of course, there are always more girls than there are boys. Ash can already feel his annoyance at having to dance with another girl already. Hopefully he gets a partner who at least knows what rhythm is this time.

The girls in the corner are giggling and talking animatedly. It seems like it’s the first time being here for most of them. Ash can easily tell apart the ones who have been here already and the ones who haven’t. The former are outweighed by the latter.  
There’s a girl with brown hair who has definitely been here before. She’s calm and confident in the way she leans on another girls shoulder. She’s smiling while the other girl tells a story. There’s two girls, both blond, but a dark tone, one tall, one really short and they lean into each other’s sides. They are quiet and dreamy and Ash looks away when the deep blue eyes of the left one catch him watching. He’s not interested in any of the girls, even though the last two had caught his gaze.

He turns to the other group. This one is mixed, some girls, but more boys. It’s the only thing Ash notices before he lays eyes on an angel.

He’s cute with his big, round, brown eyes and long lashes. His hair is black, cut in a sort of bowl shape that would look ridiculous on anyone else, but looks so fluffy on him that Ash wants to touch it.  
He’s not American, although his skin is close to porcelain white. Ash is afraid it will shatter right then in front of his eyes.There’s just something in the way he holds himself, the way he smiles (Ash nearly has a heart attack because it’s so sweet), and his face that gives it away. He’s Asian, Ash thinks, but he knows too little about Asia to identify the boy’s home country.

He’s pulled out of his staring by a hand on his arm. Staring, because Ash is certain that he spent at least a thousand hours looking at the boy. He could spend a thousand years and it still wouldn’t be enough.  
It’s Shorter and he is grinning obnoxiously. Knowingly. It’s obnoxious.  
Ash rolls his eyes and takes a step. As soon as Shorter starts walking, he follows him.

They’re apparently early, so they sit down in the hall. They don’t sit in a corner like the two other groups, but close to the stairs that lead up to the studios. The stairs are right next to the counter and the mirror wall, and Ash is glad that they’re sitting down here because not only does he not have to see his reflection anymore, but he also has a perfect view of the boy and his friends. He doesn’t care about the friends.

Shorter doesn’t try to talk to him (it annoys Ash because that only means he knows) and so they sit in blissful silence.  
Ash continues watching the boy, unable to look away.  
It’s cliché, but their eyes suddenly meet and Ash simply knows in that moment.  
The boy smiles at him, that sweet, unbearable smile and Ash is too far gone to smile back.  
He just looks away.

He knows there is a blush on his cheeks probably, but he doesn’t care.

“How much longer do we have to wait?” he asks Shorter.

“Not long. We should get going any minute. We weren’t that early,” Shorter replies, getting up “If you want, we can go upstairs already. It’s where the lessons will take place, anyways.”

Ash does stand up, and they make their way up the stairs. He doesn’t risk another glance at the boy.

It’s a small dance school. They have a few studios, but it’s not an incredibly large building. Ash knows it, has been passing the glass front for years on his way here and there. It’s cozy but modern. He likes it.  
When they enter the studio they’ll be dancing in, he wonders why he’s never been here before. He loves dancing, loves sports, loves the way to move his body. It gives him freedom in a way, control.

The studio isn’t dark, there are windows on two of the walls and mirrors on another, but the floor is the only thing that is really light. The walls are black and so is the furniture, the little sitting booths that are lining the walls. So is the big mixing desk that stands elevated on a little sort of stage.  
There are others here already, sitting in the benches and putting on their dance shoes. Not all of them have dance shoes.

Ash turns to Shorter for directions-- it was his idea to come here, after all-- and when he moves to a free booth, Ash follows and sits down.

If he had known what they would be doing, he would have brought his dance shoes. They’re gorgeous. Black and simple, a little pointed at the tip and the leather soles are at that point where they are just so not new anymore. They’re amazing to dance in. They’re not his first pair.

Ash looks down at his red chucks, his signature red chucks, which are already a little worn but definitely still in decent enough shape. He wiggles his toes in them and smiles; at least he can move in these. Good, classical dancing is not amazing with rubber soles as opposed to for example hip hop, but he’ll make do. It’s only a beginners class anyways.

“You didn’t even bring my shoes. I’m disappointed in you,” he jokes, looking up at Shorter.

“If I had taken your shoes, you would have definitely noticed. There’s few things you keep as close of an eye on as those goddamn shoes, man. You would have noticed they were missing immediately. Not to mention, if I had a backpack with me. Imagine me and a backpack. Bet you can’t,” Shorter laughs.

He’s not completely wrong, Ash notes. Shorter would look shitty with a backpack.  
He grins. He’s not mad anymore. Maybe he’ll even dance with Shorter, let that uncoordinated dumbass lead him. Hopefully not tough. Hopefully, some girl takes pity and decides to deal with Shorter’s inability to hold himself and to keep in tempo instead.

Ash shakes his head. He simply doesn’t understand the man. Shorter excels in styles like hip hop, is always right on the beat, but as soon as you give the man something else, something with style, something with class, something that’s not all slouchy, he completely fumbles not only posture but also rhythm. It’s as if he couldn’t dance at all.  
Ash thinks it’s hilarious but also excruciating.

It’s not as if he despises hip hop, quite the opposite. He likes it, has danced it in several different ways in the past. He just simply doesn’t get how Shorter can be so good at things when he is doing one thing but so bad at the exact same things when he is doing something else.

Ash shrugs out of his jacket, his favourite jeans jacket, and puts it on top of Shorters that’s already laying on the bench.  
“How long?” he asks.

He can practically feel Shorter roll his eyes and he takes great satisfaction in that.

“Not long. Any second now.”

The other groups have now joined them, and the room starts to fill. The only thing missing is the instructor. -Of course, as soon as Ash finishes this thought, a woman appears at the door. She crosses the room towards the mixing desk, steps up onto the little stage and clears her throat.

“Hey, I’m Jessica. My partner will be joining us soon. Don’t worry, he just has to discuss something. It’s not going to take long. We can start by checking who is here already. I’m going to call your name and you are going to scream ‘Here’. And you are going to scream because otherwise, I won’t hear you.” She then starts listing names and people give their responses. She seems efficient and Ash likes that.

He listens to every name, waiting until the boy from earlier says his ‘here’.  
His own name is called first.  
Then at some point the boys one.  
Eiji Okumura.

It’s foreign, just like Ash had thought. He decides he likes it. Eiji.

The names finish with Shorter’s, and there is a moment of uncertainty. As Jessica puts away the attendance list behind the mixing desk, the chatter in the room starts up again.  
They’re nervous, Ash thinks. Pathetic.

“Okay, I’m here, I’m here,” a new voice calls.  
There’s a man at the door, panting.

“I ran here, thank you, thank you. Okay.” He walks across the room towards Jessica, abruptly noticing that she’s standing there, giving him what can only be described as A Look. “Please continue and say what you were going to say. I gotta put on my shoes first anyways,” he says, sounding almost apologetic for interrupting her.  
She does continue.

“After this lesson, you can go downstairs and apply for a membership card. You don’t have to, but it will make things easier for you. You don’t pay a lot for it. I think it’s $5. Next lesson, you will only give your name downstairs and we won’t ask for it again, so please do that. Okay, now let’s begin. Please get onto the dance floor. Move. Now.”

To others, she may sound stern, but to Ash, she sounds determined and strong. He likes this woman already. If she can dance well, too… he looks over at the man, who has finished putting on his dance shoes and is getting up onto the little stage next to Jessica.

“Okay, hi, guys, I’m Max, your dance teacher. Today, we’ll start with a waltz, a simple slow waltz,” he announces and crosses the room again so that he’s now in front of the big mirror on the wall.

“Jessica and I are going to demonstrate the steps now for you to see,” he goes on. And they do.  
Jessica walks into his arms and even though there’s no music playing Ash can hear an entire orchestra as soon as they start moving. They’re good. They harmonise wonderfully, their posture is amazing and the steps of a simple slow waltz are hard to mess up. A soft smile forms on Ash’s lips.

They remind him of his parents, his biological parents. He got his passion for dancing from them and remembers nights spent in the living room where they would waltz to a song that came on the radio just because they could. Dancing always reminds him of his parents. It’s one of the reasons why he does it.

The pair comes to a stop after only a few twirls and turns towards the students again. Jessica leaves towards the mixing booth while Max claps his hands and starts teaching.

“Okay, we’re going to do the basic step first, no turning yet. It’s a very easy step.” he starts and proceeds to explain the basics of a Waltz. Ash zones out, and when Max faces the mirror so that everyone can practise the steps together, his body runs on autopilot. He likes waltzes, he really does.

Once Max is content with the way the students dance their little boxes, he turns back around to look at them again. “Now go ahead and form pairs, please. And don’t take forever.”

Ash stays right where he is. There’s more girls and they’ll want a partner, he reasons.

Except that somehow a lot of the girls are more interested in dancing with each other than with an actual male counterpart. He can’t blame them.  
His eyes find the boy from earlier hesitantly, only to see that he is already looking back. For a moment Ash is surprised, for a moment he stops.

Shorters hand on his shoulder pushes him forward gently, it’s just a little nudge.  
Ash turns his face towards him to give him a look. Of course Shorter has a dance partner. She’s pretty in a way that’s not pretty at all. They match, Shorter with his purple hair and his piercings and she with her blue hair and the tattoo he can see peeking out of her sleeve.

Shorter may be a punk, but he’s still very approachable.

Ash isn’t.

He’s pulled from his thoughts before they spiral by someone clearing their throat behind him. He already knows who it is before he turns. It’s ridiculous.

And still when he does turn and looks into the face of the angel he doesn’t know what to do.  
He raises an eyebrow.

“Do you wanna dance?” the boy asks, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s confident, smiling so sweetly that Ash can almost see flowers blossoming around his face.

He doesn’t know what to say.

“He would love to,” Shorter drawls from behind him, reminding Ash that, not only is it rude to not answer someone, but that he is also in the middle of a dance studio, supposed to find a dance partner, and that Shorter, his annoying idiot best friend and adopted brother, is still there.

“He would love answering for himself,” he says, turning towards Shorterhis face twisted into a saccharine smile that is not sweet at all.  
Shorter raises his hands in defence.

“Would that answer then still be yes?” The boy, Eiji, asks, smiling amusedly at their antics. He’s cute, Ash decides. Cute, but also strong.

He smirks. “Sure,” he shrugs.

“Are you all done?” calls a voice, Max’s voice, from the front of the room. A generally affirmative murmur goes through the room.

“Good. Now please if there is confusion decide who will lead and maybe change it up so that everyone gets their turn to lead. Okay, let’s get into position…” Max says and starts explaining how to hold oneself. Jessica comes over again to show the other half’s part. They are a good team.

Ash stops listening halfway through the explanation. He already knows all of this. He just takes position, lifting his arm for Eiji to hold.

“Eiji, right?” he asks when their hands are touching softly. Eiji’s hand is dry, and soft, and nice to hold. He tightens his grip and pulls him closer with just a little motion of his wrist.

The other boy complies, nodding at the question.  
“And your name was Aslan?” he asks.

There is a black hole forming in Ash’s stomach trying to consume him complete, trying to pull everything inside until all matter becomes linear and time becomes dimensional. It isn’t a pleasant feeling.  
“Please call me Ash,” he says, already prepared for the discussion to come.

It doesn’t.

Instead, Eiji smiles at him, mouths an “Ok”, and lifts his left hand to lay it onto Ash’s upper arm, just below the shoulder.

A smile starts to spread on Ash’s face too when he lifts his right arm and puts it onto Eiji’s back, just below the shoulder blade. He doesn’t like straying from the correct position, not only because doing so can affect the quality of one’s dance, but also because he is not interested in feeling people up or holding someone else’s waist. Maybe with a slow dance a la high school prom-style, but not with proper ballroom.

He straightens his back unconsciously and tightens his hold. They stand with their faces turned a little sideways, towards each other. Ash notices that Eiji's eyes are a lighter brown than he had thought. They have little, darker specks in them that reflect the light in a way that makes Eiji seem almost unearthly. Or perhaps Ash has just been staring for too long.  
He looks to the side.

They begin dancing paired up, again with a simple square. It’s easy and for Ash, it serves as a way to watch, to perceive, to judge. He wants to test out how well Eiji will react to his lead, wants to test out if the boy has a sense of rhythm, knows how to move. He wants to test out the limits of Eiji’s dancing.

He starts moving, taking a step forward and Eiji goes with him. Next, a step to the left and again, Eiji follows. Closing the step. They face each other, neither looking down at their feet; Eiji is smiling softly like he is proud of the way he took those steps.

Then, a step backwards, Eiji following. Ash stares at his face. A step to the right and they are still looking at each other. Ash thinks he can feel magic in the air. A last step to close. He smiles. Eiji is a wonderful dance partner. He only has to move his hand a little, only has to apply a tiny bit of pressure, and Eiji is already moving as if he already knows where to go.

Ash does realise that, with the practice they had earlier, Eiji does indeed know where to go, but he can’t help but think that Eiji will react just as wonderful as he does now when they will be dancing more complicated figures.  
He’s looking forward to it.

He wants to make little boxes on the floor with Eiji forever as long as he doesn’t look away.

They come to a halt when Max tells them to and they part, slowly, hands lingering.

They’ll spin now, slowly, just to try it out.

Ash doesn’t need to try; he knows Eiji will follow. Ash doesn’t usually consider himself an exceptionally good lead, but in this moment, it’s enough. With a good lead, a follower can do anything.

They take position again and they start to dance, really dance. No more steps on the ground forming a square. There is music in Ash’s ears and a smile on his face and they are dancing. They spin and spin and Eiji follows every step that Ash takes.

They both are smiling like crazy, and everytime their eyes meet, Ash looks away, only to look back a second later.  
He could giggle.  
He feels like a little school girl with a crush.

He’s never going to live this down, Shorter will never let him, but he makes the decision to not leave the class right then and there anyways.

They stop for a second, just so that Jessica can put on some music that they can waltz to.  
It’s a good song, a classical piece, one of Ash’s favourites.

They spin and spin and they start talking and talking and talking, and they can’t stop. They are close to one another, any other way would be impossible to talk. Ash can almost feel the touch of another body against his. He smiles.

They’re not looking into each other’s faces anymore, not holding eye contact. But when he feels Eiji close and hears his voice directly beside his ear, Ash thinks he can be okay with that.

They start talking about dancing, about how Ash was dragged here by Shorter, and about how Eiji only signed up because his uncle works here and wants him to be decent at dancing.

“You are,” Ash says. “Decent at dancing, I mean. You are.”

The song fades out and another one’s first notes play. Apparently, they will just practise until they completely get it.

A little pressure, another step backwards.  
A spin, 180 degrees.

There’s a feeling in Ash’s chest that he can’t identify but he’s happy, incredibly happy.

They dance and they dance and they dance, spinning around each other, arm in arm and even though they’ve only known each other for one dance class, Ash knows that he wants to spend all of his time with Eiji.

The song fades out again but there is no next one. They stand there, reluctant to let go. Ash smiles and lets his hands sink from their carefully practised hold. He doesn’t take a step back.  
Eiji is still looking back.

Max says something. He’s saying something but Ash’s ears feel like they’re broken. The only thing he can hear is white noise. He stares at Eiji.  
In the back of his head, he can already feel Shorter making fun of him, but he realises that he doesn’t mind all that much.  
Eiji is still looking back at him.

Apparently they must be learning the steps for another dance now because Eiji grins and turns toward the mirror again, everyone else standing like they did earlier when they rehearsed their little squares.

Ash pulls his gaze away from fluffy hair and brown eyes.

Max teaches them the cha cha, he realises. It’s a dance Ash likes, but isn’t overly fond of. There are a lot of amazing figures, but he won’t be able to dance them yet. He sighs and readies himself for the most boring cha cha he has ever danced.

They step right, forward, backward, cha cha to the left, backward, forward, cha cha to the right, forward, backward, and on and on, always the same. It’s easy, but it looks stupid easily. Some people hop, nearly skip their cha cha and Ash refuses to look at them ever again. He can’t. He’d much rather zone out.

When Max is finally content with the way they move, they start again, the same as earlier, finding dance partners.  
Ash turns to Eiji, just to see him already looking back. He can feel his face brighten up instantly at the smile that plays on Eiji’s lips.

They find their way to each other easily, neither having strayed far.  
“Just us again, huh?” Ash smirks.

Eiji laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound Ash has heard.  
“Sure seems like it,” he replies.

“Wanna take the lead this time?” Ash asks, curious if Eiji leads as good as he follows.

The other just raises his arms in position as a response, waiting for Ash to finish the hold.

He complies, laying his hand softly on the offered one, stepping into the embrace of the outstretched arm and touches his hand down just below Eiji’s shoulder.

He’s a little taller than Eiji, but not enough to make spins difficult, he thinks.

The cha cha is stationary, at least the basic steps are, in contrast to the waltz from earlier, so they stay in their own little space between the other couples the entire time. Ash doesn’t care to remember any faces other than Eiji’s

When the song begins, they start swaying slowly. The beat kicks in and Ash waits patiently for Eiji to start. The other is nodding his head in time with the music. He’s got a feeling for it, and Ash trusts him to take the first step at the right time.

Eiji waits another beat until he moves, but when he does, he takes his steps with a certainty that makes Ash move, too. Step to the left, backwards, forward, cha cha to the right. Ash follows easily, knowing the motions, and it feels like they’re floating, dancing between the stars in the nebula of Orion.

He feels light and when the music fades away, it feels like an ocean is washing over him with a single, enormous wave that leaves him gasping for air.  
He wants to dance forever.

When he gets to keep the air, gets to breathe freely with reality only lapping at his sandy feet, when he thinks that this moment might never end, the next wave crashes over him and buries him in the sea.  
They come to a halt, Ash’s fingers gingerly slipping from Eiji’s loosening hold against his will, until they are no longer touching.  
They stand next to each other, and there is an ocean between them.

“Okay, I hope you had fun!” Max calls. “This is the end of this week’s lesson. Practice the steps at home, dance as much as you can. I don’t care who you have to make your partner,” he laughs.  
“And please don’t forget to get a membership card downstairs,” Jessica adds, shouting to be heard over the noise that has picked up again. Everyone is bustling from excitement, chattering about this and that and Ash wants nothing more than to talk with Eiji, but his mouth now feels like ice is holding it together.

Eiji smiles at him and motions to the group he came here with.  
“I gotta go now, but see you next week? Wanna dance together again?”

Ash nods, dumbfounded.  
“Yeah… Yeah, sure. D-Definitely,” he stutters, still nodding.

“See you next week then, I guess,” he adds. It sounds weak, even to his own ears.

“Would you mind.. uh… would you...” Eiji stammers, taking a breath to steady himself presumably. “Would you mind giving me your number?”

Ash’s face is blank. His mind is blank. His entire existence is blank. He doesn’t know anything anymore, least of all, how to react to this.

“I mean, obviously you don’t have to and everything, but I thought…” Eiji says, clearly nervous.

“NO. Uh, I mean… Yes. I mean, no, I don’t mind, of course I’ll give you my number,” Ash responds, unoriginally.  
He stands there, unmoving until Eiji starts fidgeting.  
“Oh, oh, yeah, I’m just gonna, uh...” he says, motioning behind him to his jacket, where his phone is.

“No problem, no need to thank me, here is Ash’s number, love you, but we gotta go now!” Shorter pops up from behind him, slinging an arm around Ash and holding out a piece of paper (wherever he got that from) with (presumably) Ash’s number scribbled on it. Eiji takes it, apparently surprised by the sudden appearance of Ash’s friend too.

“Okay, uh, thank you. See you next time, then,” he says, smiling slightly and turning to get his bag. Ash only manages to wave his hand a little and smile back, before Shorter drags him over to their booth, collecting their jackets and pushing Ash’s into his hands.  
It’s only then that Ash realises what happened and snaps out of his daze.  
“What the fuck, man?”

“See you next week, huh?” Shorter just smirks. There is no way Ash is going to live this down.  
He grumbles, and walks home with Shorter’s teasing remarks guiding his way.

The sun is still shining, but the light has taken on a warmer hue, wrapping softly around the cherry blossoms and Shorter’s stupid Mickey Mouse sunglasses.  
The teasing doesn’t stop, and his “romance” with Eiji is the new topic of the evening.

And Ash doesn’t even mind because there is a text sitting in his inbox and butterflies in his belly.

Hey! Today was really much fun! I hope your friend doesn’t tease you too badly :p  
-Eiji

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very very appreciated! Tell me what you think!
> 
> Find me on twitter @pxssnelke

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] With Somebody Who Loves Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22759957) by [lysandyra (zhadyra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhadyra/pseuds/lysandyra)




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